


Dream Interpretation

by orphan_account



Category: Hellblazer, The Sandman
Genre: Dreams, Ficlet, M/M, Male Protagonist, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Porn Battle, Smut, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-05
Updated: 2008-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Insanejournal's porn battle.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dream Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Insanejournal's porn battle.

  


John was drunk, which was not so much an excuse as an incentive, and Ray Monde insisted in his decadent nasal whine that makes a bloke alternately macho up or try and show up the pervert. So John told him about the dream.

  


  


The Dream King's skin was white as marble, and his eyes were black pools of night. There was no emotion in those eyes, or in that dark voice. Something in his jawline reminded John of a film star he couldn't place, but he was just too gaunt and too glum, and with his hard edges not remotely attractive. Yet John had dreamed of sex with Morpheus, and it had been glorious.

  


  


The night after he told Ray, it returned, more vivid than before. It dispensed with the wine and whiskey and went straight to the sex, Dream gasping, pale lips parted, suspended over him, as John pulled him down for a kiss. The dream relayed the texture of faint stubble, the hard vertebrae under John's hand as he grabbed the king's neck, and the throbbing pleasure at his groin.

  


  


'Such a singular man, and such an unlikely dream,' said the librarian to Mervyn, as they smoked (Merv) and drank tea (Lucien) in the alcove above the nook of the Library where the dream-image of Morpheus grabbed John Constantine's hips and closed his mouth over the tip of his cock. (John bucked and groaned and cursed.)

  


  


'Eh, perverts come in every shade,' said Merv, and dropped the butt of his ciggy in the washwater bucket. 'What I want to know is, why is he having it here in the library?'

  


  


Lucien started, adjusted his glasses, peered down hard, and paled visibly. He grabbed Mervyn's stick-arm and pulled him away quickly and out of the room entirely.

  


  


'Hey, Loosh, what--?'

  


  


'Be very quiet, Mervyn, and perhaps He won't notice we were invading his privacy.'

  


  


The holes that stood in for Mervyn's eyes widened.

  


  


-

  


  


Morpheus's back curved back in a sinuous rocking movement, with feline flexibility, as he gently slid his mouth down along the length of John's cock. Firm mouth, small, unused to smiling, John noted, before his eyes rolled back in his head. John felt weak in the limbs, pleasure throbbing along with the movements of the King's mouth. He wasn't soft or wet or wild or any of those things John liked, but it was like his mouth was magic, stardust on his saliva, and John tried to think of something, anything to hold back a little longer, chickens, sunshine, starshine, the star in the blackness of Morpheus' eyes, oh god...

  


  


-

  


  


Lord Morpheus had tangled with many mortal souls, some gods, some suns, tasted their bodies (or their dream-selves) as he tasted their minds when they moved through his world. Not often - he did not share his sister's delight in people. Where his love for Thessaly had come from, he did not know, but the ache still rattled in the chasm that once she had filled. He drank in the wild heady drought of John Constantine, so like hers in some ways. (But he would not remember in the morning, as she would have.) John Constantine, drenched in blood and hell and dark deeds, but love as well, for life and for people... The King of Dreams dug his fingertips into John's thighs as his seed flowed into him, in this, their aspect as men, while dream and life met one more time before the end.

  


  


-

  


  


John woke up in bed alone, in sweat-slick sheets, every nerve alive with sensation. He got up groggily, and lit up, seeing all too much squalor in the harsh white morning light streaming through his one window.

  


  


He didn't think he'd tell Ray about that one.

  


  



End file.
